The Long Way Home
by jadesky1
Summary: Steve might have pulled him off that table and out of the factory, but Bucky feels like he left a big chunk of himself there. His memory of the last 3 weeks for starters. And what the hell happened to Steve? And what's he supposed to do now? He just wishes people would stop asking him questions he can't answer... Sequel to Creator /s/11193553/1/Creator
1. Chapter 1

The Great Escape: Hydra factory edition.

Disclaimer: These characters are all Marvel's. I make no money from this and in fact give Marvel (willingly) lots of my money so they will continue creating movies I love.

Author's Note: Huge thanks to my beta, the lovely theletterelle, for making this infinitely better, first time round.

* * *

There were voices.

"- convoy -"

They kept fading in and out.

"Well - Sir?"

Why was it so dark?

No, not dark. His eyes were closed. Why couldn't he open his eyes?

He'd fallen asleep?

What was happening? Why wouldn't his body listen to him?

The voices were gone. He just needed to be able to open his eyes and then he could find out where he was.

He felt...wrong. Like he was being pulled underwater, and it was taking every iota of his strength to just stay on the surface, never mind swim for the shore. He couldn't move. But maybe if he focused...

 _Come on Buck, just one eye._ He felt his eyelids flutter. That was progress at least.

He tried again, they opened a crack and he managed through force of will to keep them that way.

 _Well, that made absolutely no difference._ Darkness was now just 'marginally less' darkness.

Bucky blinked and managed to coax his eyes half open this time around. No change. No, wait, there was an odd green glow off to the side. Well, that was informative. Dark room, green glow, and he'd clearly been drugged...

These were not good things, especially when the last thing you remember is being captured by the enemy.

Bucky let his eyes fall closed to try and block it all out for just one more moment. It didn't help.

He took a deep breath and forced his heavy eyelids fully open this time. The room span for a moment, and he had to fight down a burst of nausea as he dragged his head up off the padded yet uncomfortable surface he was lying on. Sensation was coming back. He'd consider that a good thing, except that someone had apparently been using his body as a piñata. Christ he hurt.

His eyes were starting to adapt to the dim light of the room. He couldn't see much, but it was hard to miss the scientific equipment, especially the science fiction looking thing above that was worryingly pointed at him, and the straps that were holding him down onto the...well whatever it was he was on.

His head felt heavier than his old pack from basic. After a few seconds he let it fall back onto the 'bed' with a thud. Damn, there really wasn't much padding on this thing.

He'd try that again in a minute. He just needed to...

Everything started to get soft around the edges, threatened to fade out completely. He couldn't let that happen. Not again. He needed to stay focused. Stay aware. Figure out where the hell he was.

He blinked.

But when he opened his eyes on the other side of the motion Bucky instantly knew, somehow, that he'd lost time. Maybe it was the quality of the light, not that there was any to speak of still. Things were moving around less now, that was good, as was the fact that he could keep his eyes open. Hopefully that meant whatever was in his system was wearing off.

He turned his head. The glow and the equipment were still there. Double damn. He'd been hoping they were a hallucination or something.

Why couldn't he remember how he'd got here? Or even where here was?

Well he knew his name, real and preferred, along with his rank, regiment and service number. And oh, yeah, tanks. Giant ass tanks at Azzano. Firing blue rays at Axis and Allied troops alike. Making them vanish. That had happened.

He was so done with this war.

Dum Dum? Gabe? Had they made it? He wasn't sure.

Bucky knew it was overly optimistic to hold out hope that he and his men had landed in friendly hands. This place didn't look like friendly hands. But he needed to confirm it. And find out where those two lug heads had ended up. God he never thought he'd be eager to hear one of Dum Dum's crass comments about his name, age, hair...

Well, only one way to find out. "Hello?"

His voice sounded slurred and raspy to his ears, but audible. There was no answer and no sound of movement in the room. So he was alone, and no guards.

That was a good thing. But he still had no further information and he was still strapped down to a table. Not so good.

Time to see what there was to see in this chamber of horrors.

His eyes had now adjusted to the low light of the room, and enough muscle control had now returned to let him slowly turn his head side to side. Not that there was anything else he could really move right now anyway.

There was a lot of exposed brickwork. High ceilings. Large windows on the left. Some sort of factory or warehouse then?

Over on the right, some sort of office set-up through a glass window. Lamp, map, diagrams on the walls. Was that an aircraft? He was still having difficulty focusing. But possibly? Not like any he'd ever seen though.

The map was easier, he'd gotten way more familiar with Europe than he'd ever dreamed he would in his somewhat-lacking geography lessons at school. Six flags in six different locations. Was he at the one in Italy? No, it wouldn't make sense to mark your own location. It didn't make sense to have that sort of intel where a prisoner could see it either. Yet another check mark in the 'Not Good' column regarding his current situation.

Something nudged at the edge of his awareness. Were those footsteps? Yes, someone was coming closer, and by the sounds of it they were in a hurry.

As much as he wanted to find out who was holding him, they already had the upper...well, everything. His best bet was to play dead and try and catch a glimpse without them knowing he was watching. Maybe they'd unstrap him if they thought he was still out. Well, he could dream.

Plus looking up at the 'ray gun' hanging over him wasn't doing much for his attempts to stay positive. _What the hell did it do?_

Bucky closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't live to regret the choice. The footsteps entered the room sooner than anticipated. They'd never grown as heavy as he'd expected. No boots then. Someone lighter than average possibly? Their frantic pace slowed as they passed him. Checking to see if he was awake maybe?

They moved on in the direction of the office. There was the sound of someone moving things around. Bucky cracked open one eye and saw a very short, middle-aged man with spectacles. He looked harmless, but Bucky knew better than to trust appearances. _I mean just look at Steve._

The diminutive man definitely wasn't a soldier. A scientist or medic perhaps? Whatever he was, he'd just grabbed a hat and coat and was coming back out. Bucky closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, and the stranger ran right by him and out into the hallway. Then he stopped. Were those more footsteps coming towards them?

Whatever was coming, Bucky wanted to see it this time. He forced his eyes open again. And looked straight at the device. _Wait, was it glowing?_

Suddenly his entire existence was pain. He couldn't move. There was no way to get away from what they were doing to him. All he could do was repeat his name, rank and serial number in a loop, like they'd been taught in training. Focus on that. Try and block out everything else. "Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557..."

Someone had said his name.

The glow around the device vanished, almost as if it had never been there in the first place. The room was dark and someone was there with him. Breaking his straps. Who...?

They were touching him. It looked almost like...

"It's me. It's Steve."

"Steve." He repeated it before it even fully registered that this was his Steve. "Steve!"

He'd been sure he'd never see his best friend again. But something wasn't right. He was pulled up off the table and onto his feet. The room lurched, but once it had settled Steve was still looking down at him. Was this all the drugs? Was he just seeing things?

The helmeted figure with Steve's face and some other really big guy's body grabbed him by the shoulders. "I thought you were dead."

Yes, it definitely was Steve. No one else could express that much with a single look. But that meant... "I thought you were smaller." _What the hell had happened to him?_

Steve didn't respond. He just looked around the room, pulled Bucky's arm over his now too-high shoulder, wrapped his own round Bucky's back, and with a "Come on" started half-carrying him out of there. Wherever there was.

 _Like hell was he going to be carried._

"What happened to you?"

"I joined the Army." It was such a Steve thing to say that Bucky would have laughed if he wasn't so focused on getting his legs to work. That was not an answer. The punk.

His legs started obeying his commands as they rounded the corner of the corridor and he pushed himself away from Steve's side. God his left arm itched. "Did it hurt?" He pushed up his sleeves.

"A little."

This was Steve. That didn't reassure him much. "Is it permanent?" He looked his friend head to toe. What the hell could do that to someone anyway?

Steve looked back at him. "So far."

Fine, he'd leave it for now, but as soon as they got out of here Steve had some serious explaining to do. And maybe if he kept throwing questions Steve's way, he'd buy some time to fill in a few of the blanks he had between here and Azzano before the questions started coming back in his direction.

His arm was still bugging him. He looked down and noticed the half-healed marks along the inside. He pulled his sleeves down again. No point worrying Steve, not like he could explain them anyway.

They'd managed to pick up a little speed now that his coordination had improved, but he was still lagging behind Steve as they came out into a vast concrete space with steel walkways. Steve approached a railing, and Bucky joined him, only to be instantly hit with an intense blast of heat and the force of multiple explosions going off below. He staggered back, ducking down to get away from the assault, while Steve raised the odd stars and stripes shield he'd been carrying to defend himself, before attracting Bucky's attention and leading the way up a flight of stairs behind them to the left.

 _Great, stairs._ But when the only other choice was a flaming inferno, stairs it was.

Bucky grabbed onto the side railing and half-pulled himself up, half-climbed the steel staircase, trying to keep up with his newly-enlarged friend. After a few moments it seemed to get a lot easier. And his speed increased to the point where he almost couldn't stop himself in time to take the turn as they came out onto the walkway; forcing him to push against the railing in front in order to brake and change direction.

After just a few steps Steve stopped at the sound of a raised voice.

"Captain America! How exciting!"

Bucky drew to a halt behind Steve and held onto the railing. He looked over to see the short man from the lab, and a tall Nazi officer, standing on the other side of the walkway they'd been about to cross. _Guess that makes that the way out._

"I am a great fan of your films!"

Okay, clearly he was missing something here. Films? And what was the creepy red octopus emblem on the guy's uniform all about?

The short scientist type he'd seen earlier was shooting him a strange look. Bucky felt a shiver going up his spine. Until now, he'd always thought that was just a saying. He realised he was suddenly leaning heavily against the railing. Something about the look the man was sending his way made him feel the need to get as far away as possible.

Not an impulse felt by Steve it seemed. But when had it ever been.

While Bucky had been focused on the bespectacled man, Steve had marched out to meet the approach of the tall German.

He'd always let Steve handle the situation until it became obvious he couldn't and that he'd bitten off more than he could chew. This guy looked like the definition of that, regardless of Steve's new fighting weight. And Bucky was in no shape to step in this time.

Wait. The German said something about a Dr Erskine. Who was Dr Erskine? Was he the guy who did this to Steve?

Bucky's not sure if he wants to hug or punch the person responsible. _Speaking of punches._

Steve puts what Bucky taught him at Goldie's to good use and lands a powerful right hook on the guy's jaw. Maybe that will shut him up. Fritz definitely likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much.

Bucky's pride lasts just as long as it takes for the Nazi to regroup and swing at Steve with a counter that dents his shield, and would probably have laid out a heavyweight. Before Bucky can react, Steve's lost his gun and been hit onto his back, but he literally kicks back with a two-footed move that Bucky knows he never showed him.

If he'd taken Steve's gun he might have been able to do something, but this fight isn't normal. None of this is. He doesn't know what to do.

His prayers are seemingly answered when the bridge starts separating and the two combatants are forced back into their corners. Then he sees the Doctor by a lever and realises he was the one responsible. For some reason the thought of him owing that man anything makes him very, very uneasy.

He walks his hands along the railing as it moves towards him, returning his friend to relative safety. They're still in a burning factory but Bucky will take it as a win.

Then Fritz starts peeling his face off.

Bucky had to wonder if the drugs were having some weird after effects.

It's a mask, and underneath his face is bright red and not in a 'stayed out on the beach too long' type of way. _Christ what happened to the guy?_

Only Steve's reaction convinces him he's not seeing things. "You don't have one of those do you?"

"You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you I embrace it proudly. Without fear!"

Dear God. He knew leaving Steve unsupervised was a mistake. What has the Punk got himself wound up in?

And is Steve really a Captain? He can't be. Guys like them don't get made Captains. He's still half-convinced his promotion to Sergeant was some kinda clerical error.

"Then how come you're running?"

 _My best friend, ladies and gentlemen. Steve 'deathwish' Rogers._

Another series of explosions rocks the building and the flames below them surge upwards. There must be some shred of common sense left in that swollen head, because next thing Bucky knows Steve's telling him "Come on, let's go, up" and they are heading up yet more stairs.

He wondered if other people have these types of experiences or if he's just lucky. He could only blame Steve for so much after all. He'd chosen him.

They reached the top of the factory and as Bucky caught up he realised that Steve had stopped for a reason. He looked at the beam, shaking with the detonations still going off below. _This was his escape plan?_

To be fair, those blasts sounded like ordinance going off, and Steve knew the lay of the land unlike him. However, he once again wondered how it was he'd ended up with the reputation for stupid plans, when generally they were all just spur of the minute ideas designed to get them out of whatever ridiculous situation Steve had landed them in.

Noone really understood Steve the way he did. He'd occasionally wondered what his overly-heroic friend's life would have been like if Bucky hadn't stumbled across him being beat up in that alley all those years ago - with his delicate health and lack of self-preservation instinct. It didn't bear thinking about.

He couldn't imagine his life without Steve Rogers. And luckily his friend seemed to return the sentiment as his apparent one-man rescue effort more than proved. So if Steve said cross the beam of death, cross the beam of death Bucky Barnes would.

He began climbing over the rail and found Steve's hands supporting him. That was going to take some getting used to.

"One at a time."

As Bucky felt the beam move under him he had to agree that was probably wise. God he hated heights.

He moved along the makeshift bridge carefully and was doing pretty okay until yet another huge explosion went off directly below. He kept his balance, but the beam didn't fare quite as well. He heard a tell-tale groaning from the metal below him and ran. He jumped just as the far end of the beam detached itself from its moorings, and just managed to catch the rail securely enough to pull himself up and over.

His surge of relief lasted only until he looked Steve in the eye. _Crap._ He looked down. This place wasn't going to be standing for much longer at this rate. "There's gotta be a rope or something!"

"Just go! Get outta here!"

Fuck that. His world might have descended into a fiery level of hell complete with red skull-faced Nazi demons, but screw them all. "NO! Not without you!"

Steve looked frustrated with him. Nice to know some things hadn't changed.

Then he bent back a length of damaged railing. That was definitely new. And what 'they'd' done to him definitely hadn't just made him taller. What was he doing?

He moved back. Oh hell, he was actually going to jump.

Steve had already completed his run up, and was throwing himself across the huge gap, before Bucky could even process the fact that Steve thought this was a good idea. And as a wall of fire from the largest explosion yet blocked Bucky's view, his heart dropped to his feet.

Until he saw Steve still hurtling towards him. He was going to fall short; Bucky could just tell. He stepped up onto the first rung of the railing and leaned over, arm outstretched. The second he made contact, he latched onto Steve's wrist and threw himself backwards. Their combined weight and momentum was enough to get Steve clear, and that fact was almost enough to make the pain of several hundred pounds of 'new Steve' falling on top of him almost bearable.

Christ, he was going to feel that for weeks.

Steve quickly scrambled up onto his hands and knees. "God Buck. Bucky, are you all right?"

'Bucky' was still trying to get the air back in his lungs. For some reason Steve seemed to take his lack of answer as justification to start prodding and poking him along his ribs. He slapped his friend's hands away. "Quit it will ya."

He pushed on that ridiculous shoulder and Steve took the hint, standing up and holding out a hand to help him up. Bucky took it. He might be proud, but he wasn't stupid. And it was Steve.

Steve, who was giving him yet another concerned look. "You OK?"

Bucky felt his head shaking before he'd even formulated a response. _Better go with that then._ "No. But I will be. Come on, let's get out of here."

* * *

If you've liked, please favourite. It's the only way I know. xx

Also, the section in present tense is meant to be so. Think of it as Bucky seeing the action happen in slow motion, or removed from him, so he's almost commentating on it rather than experiencing it.


	2. Chapter 2

New Steve, just like the old Steve.

My great beta, Elle, should take at least 12% of the credit for this chapter.

* * *

The next few minutes are a blur of downward spirals, intense heat, and smoke-choked breaths, as Steve leads and Bucky follows him out of this nightmare place.

At one point a section of gangway in front of them had collapsed, damaged by some prior explosion. Steve had barely hesitated before grabbing him by the back of his shirt and virtually throwing him across the gap. It was only his almost total inability to breathe through the acrid black fumes that had replaced all the oxygen, that stopped Bucky yelling at him for that.

None of this was okay. He needed to lie down. No, first he needed to catch his breath. Then stick his head in a bucket of water. Then he'd lie down.

He couldn't see at all now. He held tightly onto Steve's shoulder and simply trusted his friend knew the way to go.

Then an almighty crash and a blissful blast of cold winter air heralded their freedom.

Bucky staggered out, coughing painfully and doubling over as he fought to take in deep lungfuls of clean unpolluted air.

He'd just about caught his breath when he was abruptly shoved up against the concrete wall and pinned. Panic set in, and he tried to fight off his attacker before he realised it was in fact Steve, who had the shield raised, deflecting bullets aimed their way by a black clad trooper firing a sidearm. A trooper who seconds later disappeared in a blue flash of light.

With the threat now gone, Bucky pushed Steve away from him. Harder than he'd meant to. Steve staggered forwards a few steps and looked back at him with a strange expression.

Bucky opened his mouth to apologise. He'd just needed space. He made it as far as "Sor-" before he doubled over again coughing. He gave up standing as a lost cause and sat down heavily.

He looked around, noticing the remnants of a battle all around them, even through his still-watering eyes - scorch marks, craters, smoke and a few isolated fires. And a few bodies. Most wearing the black of the enemy forces-whoever they were-but more than a few wearing the familiar greens of American and British servicemen. He spotted the insignia of the 107th on one. Was it someone he knew? The moisture running from his eyes and down his cheeks, threatened to take on a whole new identity.

Steve looked around, assessing the situation. There were a few distant noises of gunfire, but it sounded like the fighting was winding down. He assumed from the way Steve's posture relaxed that it was their side that had come out on top. Though how he could tell from here Bucky didn't know. But he must have been fairly positive, as he laid down the stars and stripes shield and crouched down in front of Bucky, blocking his view of the casualties. He pulled out a small flask from inside his jacket pocket, unscrewing the top and holding it out. "Here Buck. It'll help."

Bucky sipped the tinny-tasting water. As much as he wouldn't have minded something stronger, the liquid felt wonderful as it trickled down his parched throat. It was helping ease his raspy breathing as well. Finally noticing something was missing, he looked at Steve. "Your asthma?"

Steve gave him a half-smile. "Gone." He wasn't even coughing from the smoke.

Bucky nodded and took another sip of water. _Okay, maybe this Erskine gets a pass._

Steve suddenly tensed and then quickly stood up. Someone was running towards them. Bucky accepted the hand his friend held out in his direction, and let Steve do the heavy lifting to get him back to his feet. He handed him back the flask-which was quickly stowed-and stamped down on his irritation when Steve once again put himself and his shield at Bucky's 12. It was the smart move. The shield was the only reachable cover they had right now.

A helmeted trooper appeared from around the side of the factory. The weapon he was carrying was huge, glowing blue and unlike anything Bucky had ever seen. Steve had gone too still. This wasn't good. _Maybe he wouldn't…_

The enemy soldier noticed them.

He raised the gun in their direction.

Steve's hand was still on Bucky's shoulder, but now it was moving. Three fingers lifted and tapped down. Two fingers lifted and tapped down. But just before the one count, and whatever madness Steve had planned to follow it with could take place, the man in front of them paused, lowered his weapon and scurried away even faster than he'd arrived.

Bucky turned to look at his friend. "Well that was anti-climatic. Please tell me that you knew for a fact that that shield would hold up to whatever that thing shoots?"

Steve glanced back at him guiltily.

"Jesus, Steve!"

The factory choosing that moment to blow up in spectacular fashion behind them, was the only thing that saved Steve Rogers from what was going to be the lecture of a lifetime.

Bucky picked himself up off the ground, this time ignoring Steve's offer of assistance. He was too annoyed with his friend right now, rescue or no rescue. This was a war, and Steve was going to get himself killed if he kept on in his usual fashion.

Then he heard it, the distinct rumbling of a tank drawing closer, and yes, it was headed in their direction. Of course it was.

"Steve, unless you think you can suddenly punch out a tank, get your hands the hell up."

He started to raise his own arms, only to have Steve grab his wrists and hold them down. "Wait a sec."

Bucky flinched. The only saving grace was that Steve was too distracted by the approaching tank to notice. A tank that had now ground to a halt only yards in front of them.

With his eyes still messed up from the smoke, and the flood lights affixed to the tank pointed in their direction, Bucky couldn't see much other than a looming, threatening shape in the darkness. Well that wasn't quite accurate. He shaded his eyes and could make out the figure of a man in the top gun turret. Steve was smiling. Why was Steve smiling?

"Chaps, I do believe you'll want to get out here. Mostly to rub it in my face that 'you told me so'."

Bucky didn't recognise the voice. Should he? But there was no mistaking that accent. A Brit.

More dark shapes emerged as the men inside clambered up and out of the hatch.

"Well look what the Cap dragged in. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes Jimmy."

"Dugan, how many times do I have ta tell y... Ooof!" His complaints were cut short as he found himself half-crushed between Jones and Dum Dum.

"Thought we'd lost you there for a beat or two there Sarge." Gabe's quiet words were as welcome as they were unsettling. What had happened?

After another moment the two men finally stood back and let him breathe again. This it turned out was a bad thing, as it set out another bout of coughing that would have sent him to his knees if Steve hadn't been there to catch him.

Dum Dum tried to step in and take Steve's place but was quickly waved off by the Captain.

Gabe and Dugan shared a look. Gabe shrugged. "It doesn't sound like pneumonia."

"Pneumonia?!" Steve sounded more panicked than someone who'd suffered the infection numerous times, and survived it, should do in Bucky's opinion. _Hey it's news to me too pal._

"I'm fine Steve, it's just the smoke."

Gabe and Dugan shared another look. "Why don't you let Jonesy here check you out just to be on the safe side?"

Gabe barely waited for Dugan to finish speaking before he moved in, never mind Bucky's agreement.

"Maybe you should check for a head injury while you're at it Gabe." Bucky scowled at Dum Dum's comment, but also felt a rush of relief. Of course, he'd told them about Steve, no way they'd believe this was the same guy. And it was finally confirmation that he hadn't just imagined this whole thing after all. Reassuring.

He tried to back away from Gabe's outstretched hands, but Steve's grip tightened, holding him in place. "Let him, Buck."

He fought off a surge of panic; these were his friends. And introductions were clearly in order. "Dum Dum, Gabe, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, these two idiots are Private Gabe Jones and Corporal Timothy Dugan."

"Captain America here is your Steve? Short stack Steve from Brooklyn?" Dugan's look of disbelief was almost comical enough to let Bucky ignore Gabe's prodding of his ribs.

"Short stack?"

He turned to look at Steve. "Well you know how I feel about pancakes."

Steve snorted. Then elbowed him. _Ow._ He wasn't too concerned then.

"Yeah, I've got a whole heap of questions about that too Dugan, believe me."

Steve was scanning the area. "Later, I promise. Any room in that tank for Sergeant Barnes here?"

"We'll make room for him." The Brit's voice was starting to seem oddly familiar.

"What the hell, Steve! I'm fine! Gabe, tell him."

"Buck, I just pulled you off a table. A table you were strapped down to. You're going in the tank."

Gabe suddenly paused and shifted his body to one side. He looked Bucky in the eye and subtly nodded down towards his left arm. Buck realised he'd been reaching to scratch at it again. _Okay, fine, he was busted._ He rolled his eyes at his friend. Gabe pushed up and then pulled down his sleeve after just a quick glance. It almost looked like he was simply adjusting Bucky's clothing after the exam, but Bucky knew better and was grateful for his discretion. Nothing they could do about it here, and talking about it would just slow them down.

"Fine, but only if there's no-one with actual injuries who needs-"

"No Buck, even then. There's plenty of other vehicles we can secure to carry the wounded."

"After, then. We still need to gather everyone up, secure prisoners, set up a base camp at a safe distance -"

"Which Dugan, Monty, Dernier and I-and Captain Rogers here-can handle. Get your stubborn ass in the tank Sarge, before you fall over and we just carry you in." _Et tu Gabe? And who exactly are Monty and Dernier?_

"You could just order him in, Captain." The Brit had jumped down, and was now visible in the lights of the tank, and the glow of the still burning factory behind them. He looked like he sounded, a toff. "Privilege of rank and all that." He held out a hand to Steve. "As this dock-working reprobate we can't seem to get shift of failed to introduce me, allow me, Lieutenant James Montgomery Falsworth of Her Majesty's Paras. Just call me Monty."

Well that was one question answered. One of many. And..."Hey!"

Steve shook the proffered hand with a smile, jostling Bucky in the process. "That's my dock-working reprobate you're talking about there Monty."

The red-beret wearing English man crossed his arms. "There's a pity, we've become quite accustomed to him. Maybe you'd consider a shared-custody arrangement of some sort? You can borrow Dugan."

"Screw you, your lordship."

"You can keep Dugan."

Bucky, for once, was not in the mood for witty repartee. "Great, now everyone knows everyone, you've all had a laugh at my expense. Can we please get away from the exploding building and the hell out of here, wherever it is."

'Monty' turned away from looking at Bucky to address Steve, "He does rather have a point."

"He usually does. What's the current situation?"

"We were just making a last round to pick up any stragglers. A number of Hydra's forces, maybe twenty to thirty escaped in some transports, a few on bikes. Seemed to be headed East or North. The majority of the rest have been killed or did for themselves. Only one or two prisoners, no-one high ranking. They don't seem big on surrendering. Can't say I'm overly sad about that fact. Our side are packing up the remaining vehicles in the loading yard with what supplies we've been able to salvage."

Monty knew his stuff. Apparently he also knew Bucky. Bucky could figure that one out later. But right now…

He pushed himself off Steve's left shoulder.

"Buck!"

He ignored the call and walked over to a Hydra (apparently) gun lying on the ground, looked it over, checked the sight, spun quickly, and shot the approaching enemy soldier who'd been coming up on their position around the side of the tank. He vanished in a flash of blue. Bucky looked at the weapon in his hands. "Fuck me."

"Language."

"Don't even start that shit with me right now Rogers."

Dugan scratched his head under his bowler hat. "Guess we missed one." He leaned towards Gabe who was standing next to him in the huddle Bucky had just left. "You know I'm really starting to think that might actually be his Steve."

"You're all idiots." Bucky dropped to a crouch, planted the gun barrel down in the dirt in front of him, closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the stock. He just needed to escape all this, just for one minute, then he'd be good to go.

"Those delightful weapons are the reason we're struggling for an accurate count on our losses. No bodies, not even dog tags left behind. Burial detail's going to be alarmingly quick on this occasion. We've got people checking up on their cell mates. It's the best we can do for now."

Falsworth's sombre words broke through the dark stillness Bucky had retreated into. Oh well, guess his minute was up. He heard footsteps approaching him; he was pretty sure it was Steve.

"Try and carry me and I'll shoot you."

"No you won't, you've spent too many years trying to keep me alive."

He heard Steve crouch down on his right and finally cracked open an eye. "Well, I can still tell them about the time Jenny McGascill dared you to -"

Steve raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay no carrying. You do need to rest up though, Buck."

His other eye opened. "Pfft. I was the only one who spotted that guy, you need me."

"Always, Buck."

"That's low, Steve."

"Humour me Bucky, you had pneumonia-"

"Bad pneumonia." Gabe was clearly not on his side.

Steve nodded his thanks, "Bad pneumonia. What, a few weeks ago?" He looked back at Gabe who nodded back a confirmation.

"Three weeks give or take. There's no way you could be totally over it this quickly."

He'd lost three weeks. That was... That was longer than he'd expected. He felt himself wobble and Steve's hand was on his elbow almost the instant it happened. He steadied himself and shook the unwanted assistance off. "What, are you a doctor all of a sudden? You said it yourself - I had it, I don't have it any more. I'm fine." He wasn't fine.

Dugan suddenly appeared in his direct field of vision, kneeling down in front of him and looking him in the eye. "Hey, Jimmy boy, I know you've probably been through a lot, we all have, but that's no excuse to talk to Jonesy that way. You'd be the first in line to kick anyone else's ass if they did, I know because I've seen you do it."

Bucky winced. "Sorry Gabe."

The Georgia-man laughed dryly. "If you're really sorry, get your ass in the tank. I may not be a doctor, and you may not have pneumonia, but no one with eyes or a lick of sense would pass you fit for field duty right now." He still hadn't mentioned the needle marks. Hell of a guy, Gabe Jones.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, but only to the yard. And I'm on the gun."

Dugan scoffed at that. "No deal. You're in there until we get you to a real doctor, no offence Jonesy."

"None taken. But we can be reasonable, I'd accept a paramedic or nurse."

 _Gee, thanks._ "Not happening."

"Captain, we're all still free to carry him correct?" Monty was a funny guy. Who would'a guessed?

Steve stood up and indicated for Bucky to do the same. He managed it with barely a waver, he was proud.

Steve looked to Monty again. "Who's the most senior officer here?"

"That would be you Captain. We have a few Lieutenants of various colours but nothing higher."

Only someone who knew Steven Grant Rogers back to front and inside out, like Bucky did, would have understood the hints of emotion crossing his face. Panic, relief and determination. Bucky didn't know what Steve was doing here without back-up, or what the hell the getup he was wearing was about, but helping people in bad situations was Steve's wheelhouse whatever size he was. He'd put money on this being Steve's first time out. It didn't matter, he'd follow Steve anywhere. From the looks of it, his friends now would too. He wouldn't have to talk him up to people any more. That was nice.

"We're over 35 miles from the base I left, which is our nearest relief point, and we can't take a direct route due to some heavy artillery between us and there. So, we're probably looking at over 40 miles with diversions. If I'm in charge I want you riding most of the way, Buck. I can't worry about you the entire march too."

He still hadn't ordered him, Bucky noticed. Considerate. He wasn't sure he could take that right now. "I'm it Steve, for the 107th, I'm all that's left."

Dugan piped up, "I'm pretty sure I just saw Hopkins of Charlie a few minutes ago".

Bucky glared at him, but as usual it had no effect on the former strong man. "Fine, I'm all that's left in our Company, point still applies that I need to check-up on them and do what needs to be done. It shouldn't be anyone else."

He saw the resignation form in Steve's eyes. He was right, and he knew Steve knew that.

Steve picked up his shield, which he'd leant up against the side of the tank while Bucky wasn't paying attention. "Fine, we'll compromise. You ride to the yard. You sort out what remains of the 107th with Gabe, Dugan and Hopkins, but then you're back on the tank until we make camp."

Bucky opened his mouth the argue that the men needed to see him.

"We'll have them behind the tank, you can be on the gun. There's probably no-one they'd rather see there."

 _Damn it._ Steve knew him too well.

"After that you switch out with Hopkins on 4 hour shifts if he's not injured. If he is, we'll find someone else to stand in."

"Okay." He could be reasonable too.

"You have two hours to get things sorted out at the yard and then you're retiring until morning."

 _You bastard._

"Jones, Dugan, I expect you to make sure he does."

 _You sneaky, sneaky Irish bastard._

He sent apologies to the dearly departed Sarah Rogers, but sometimes her son was just too much. He'd even still managed to avoid ordering Bucky around. He was going to have to get over that. If Steve was stuck in this God damned war there's no way he was leaving his side once the rest of the Company was safe.

"Steve."

"Yes, Sergeant?"

Oh, okay. So, it was going to be like that was it?

"Your shoelace is undone."

Bucky walked past Steve towards the tank, and heard Steve drop the shield and kneel down to sort out his boot, as he (carefully) climbed onto the body of the armoured vehicle and into the gun station. "Come on boys, show me how this lady moves."

The three men had gathered at the front of the tank and were all looking up at him.

Monty shook his head. "And somehow, I'm still glad he's not dead."

"Me too. He kinda grows on you, like foot fungus." _Thanks Dugan._ "You gonna tell us what happened these last three weeks or not, kid?"

Gabe shook his head before Bucky could come up with a response. "Not the time, Dugan. Let's get him and us safe first, then we can have all the campfire stories you want."

Dugan nodded grudgingly, and Bucky hoped Gabe could read the gratitude in his own expression. He turned to find Steve watching him with a questioning look. He ignored it.

There was only space for two inside, so Falsworth made himself comfortable on the back of the tank. And after a moment of consideration, Bucky passed him the rifle. Or ray gun. Whatever.

"I'm gonna want that back."

Monty took it from him with a nod of thanks. "I'm sure there are bound to be plenty of aspiring Hydra martyrs who're simply dying to get you a new one."

Bucky let out an involuntary snort of amusement. Yeah, he probably liked Monty. The guy still wasn't keeping that gun though.

Bucky settled himself behind the mounted gun controls as the tank shuddered to life beneath him. _Looks simple enough._

The tank lurched backwards, reversing before starting to turn and trundle forwards towards the loading yards. Bucky looked up to see where Steve had gotten to. He was walking alongside as if out for a Sunday stroll in the neighbourhood. Couldn't he at least stay behind the tank? Jesus Christ. He was going to have saved Bucky only to give him a heart attack within the first few minutes of operations. "Get behind us, Steve."

Steve had that mulish expression on his face. The one that's haunted Bucky's nightmares since the age of eight or nine. _The more things change...etc. etc._

"I'm the officer in charge, I should be leading the way."

Monty snorted and turned to look up at Bucky. "He really is new to all this isn't he?"

Bucky sank down into the rock-hard seat with a sigh. "Captains don't lead, they give orders. Usually from a safe distance. But you're not going to do that are you?"

The question's purely rhetorical and Steve knew it. He smiled up apologetically. _If only he was actually sorry._

"If you're trying to get me to relax, this isn't the way to do it, Steve."

Steve finally, grudgingly, moved behind the tank, and instantly started asking Falsworth more questions about the state of the men and the supplies they had left to them by Hydra. But he could feel Steve's eyes returning to him at various points of the conversation. Did he want to ask the Brit questions about Bucky? Bucky wished he would. He could do with a few of those answers.

There was no-one in sight as they rolled slowly forward, skirting the burning shell of the main factory building. Nothing for him to do other than let his eyes adjust to the red-tinged, half-darkness around them. As they rounded the corner, he caught a glimpse of the factory's profile out of the corner of his eye and suddenly he was on foot, being herded towards it at gunpoint in a stream of uniformed, defeated humanity, and with a tightness in his chest that he knew wasn't just due to the dread of being captured by this new, unknown enemy.

They'd arrived at night. The flashback faded away, taking the last of his strength along with it. He was back on the tank, he was leaving this place. And now he wasn't at all certain he wanted those missing memories back after all.


End file.
